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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27196595">The Witcher Games</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NIQtraust/pseuds/Cornaith'>Cornaith (NIQtraust)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>('cause it's just journal entries), Action/Adventure, Corvo Bianco (The Witcher), Diary/Journal, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Kaer Morhen, POV First Person, Plague, Plague Maiden/Pesta, Written for something on Amino, Written in journal entry form, what is a plot?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:56:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,575</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27196595</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NIQtraust/pseuds/Cornaith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>My entries for the challenges in the Witcher Games on Amino.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Witcher Games</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please heed the tags. If I need to add something then let me know.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Geralt is given a journal by Ciri and told to write in it, since it might help with his nightmares. A little over a year later, he has filled in the final page.</p><p>Prompt:<br/>This first game will be very simple and since its October i felt it was only fitting to do something dark. You will need to create a wiki diary or journal detailing your chosen characters experience with any one Witcher creature, of your choosing of course. It can be a fight, helping them, finding a cure.. Whatever you want as long as it has a bit of spook to it. The creepier the story is, the better. Please, don't make it short, a couple paragraphs would be preferred.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Note:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still think this was a terrible idea. Ciri goaded me into it. Thought it might help with my nightmares. Can't say I believe her, but I know she won't relent unless I give this a go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So without further delay, I'll write.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>§</span>
</p><p>
  
  <b>December 14</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri gave me this thing today. Daughter thinks I need to "stop moping around the vineyard and waking her up with my screams at night." Know she cares at heart, but the nightmares this week have cost us both sleep. If writing shit down will help, I'll try it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>December 16</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even sure what I'm supposed to record? Barnabus-Basil catalogues the wine sales. I just clear the valley of monsters and am on call for the rest of Toussaint as a witcher.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>February 28</b>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Nightmares stopped a month ago. Now it's just the normal ones. Not sure why. Least I no longer watch Ciri drown herself in blood each night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>March 2</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri is growing restless. She'll depart soon. Says I need to keep writing, that I should have made more entries over the winter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>March 8</b>
</p><p>
  <span>She's leaving today. Not sure why I ever expected her to stay. The Path calls her as it calls me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>March 9, morning</b>
  
</p><p>
  <span>I wasn't fucking ready.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>March 9, afternoon</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri has a life of her own, a destiny to still follow. I am proud of her for it. But that doesn't erase the emptiness and monotony filling my life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>March 23</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. Haven't been able to write since she left. What would Ciri say?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nightmares have gotten worse without her here. They were bad before, but her presence calmed them. Made it all a little easier. Maybe because most of them were about her. Contracts with her meant we both were still alive and fighting. Meant that she was still safe beside me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that she'll ever be safe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>March 26</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonder if I'll ever see her again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>March 27</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course I will.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>April 14</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Found a good place to find celadine. Too important these days not to mark. It's outside of my usual hunting grounds, but I'll probably pass this way again. If it's not useful to me, it'll be useful to one of the other witchers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>April 19</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Dammit. Ghouls nest nearby. Celadine got trampled and the plants torn up with during the fight. Guess I won't be collecting any new herbs there soon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>April 30</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Belleteyn. Yennefer was born today, Ciri sometime around now. Wonder where they are. Wonder how they are. Haven't seen Ciri since March, and Yen and I were last in each other's company nearly two years ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>May 1</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Villagers refused to pay after I took care of their forktail problem. They'd claimed it was a dragon. Upon learning it wasn't, they decided I didn't deserve the coin. I'd be insulted, but I'm no longer even disappointed at their actions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>May 13</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Roach has begun limping today. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>May 17</b>
</p><p>
  <span>She can no longer gallop. Need to find a good place for her to retire before I get another horse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>May 29</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Found one. She's safe and secure at a small lord's farm, content to live out the rest of her days. He's nobility, but not as much of an asshole as the rest of them. Roach likes him and his kids. No wife in sight, not sure why. Didn't see a grave. Didn't pry, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lord gave me a new horse, whom I have dubbed Roach. Dandelion's going to have a fit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>June 3</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonder where Ciri is. How she's doing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>June 21</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Got paid this time. Small comfort considering the village tried to lynch me beforehand, but I'll take it. I needed the coin. When do I not?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>June 28</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn necrophages. Never can leave a place alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>July 17</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. It's been a couple of weeks. Keep doing this. Least I'm still writing, I suppose. Would have given this journaling up months ago, but I have little reason to yet. The only other conversationalists around are Roach and me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>July 21</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The further north I go, the worse the monster attacks get. Suppose Nilfgaard is good for something. Very few contracts in the south, I'll give Emhyr that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, civilization vanquishes monsters far more permanently than a silver sword.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>August 1</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Got lucky today. Couple of bandits decided to try their hand at robbing a witcher. Killed the bastards, but one sliced my leg open. Was near enough to a healer it might not even scar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>August 12</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Why do people never learn?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>August 15</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The Pontar is a sight this time of year. Not a particularly pleasant one. Think I'll skip Novigrad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>September 3</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Have to start thinking about heading towards Kaer Morhen now. Got some time before the snows start, but if I'm weeks away by the time they hit I'll have to winter elsewhere. There's trouble brewing out here. Rather be at the fortress in the mountains. Corvo Bianco will survive without me and isn't worth the trek. Ciri can look after herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>September 11</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Looks like rain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>September 28</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Heading north to Kaer Morhen. This Roach fears wargs but is otherwise suited to this lifestyle. A bit of fear's healthy for her. Have enough time before the snows hit that I can afford to take my time travelling. The extra coin could come in handy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>October 17</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Heard rumours of a hefty contract a short way out of my way. Worth a look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>October 22</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Something is seriously wrong here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>October 24</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Should probably elaborate. I need to think, anyhow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woods here are eerily quiet except for the occasional moans of pain. The village is stricken and the wood is rotting. I saw several wolves lying down, sores open and oozing pus along their sides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All signs point to some illness sweeping through. Odd, though, that the wildlife is affected as well. Did the human inhabitants eat an infected animal? Or did the wildlife catch this pox from the village? Even the trees themselves seem sickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's the possibility the illness in both is a coincidence. Can't rule that out until I know more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enough noting my surroundings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Went to the village elder yesterday. Got offered a contract. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Went something along the lines of this:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plague swept through the town, Woodsburrow, a month and a half ago. Most survived, since it had been a less deadly strain that hit them. Got it from a mysterious trader, they claimed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, a sickly angel dressed in white walks among them. Wherever she goes, those she passes sink into a deep, peaceful sleep. They don't wake, instead growing weaker and weaker until they are jerked back to life. Village elder claims they cough up blood until they die, sores blooming and bursting all over their body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To my mind, sounds like a pesta, or a plague maiden. Dead woman who now roams the world, either chasing or spreading disease, the bestiaries are unclear. Rare case, but the description fits. Stands to explain the wildlife as well. Need to look around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>October 25</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Went back into the village this morning. Camped out here in the woods with Roach overnight. Witchers're immune to most forms of disease, but there was little need for me to stay near plague victims. They didn't want me nearby, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Might as well document this here. Today, I'll examine the bodies of the victims, both those dead and still living. Then I check the woods. The pesta is the most likely cause behind the decay and corruption there, but if she's not, rather not be surprised by some other monster mid-fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Started off well enough. Famous last words, I know. Can practically hear Ciri laughing. Not that she'll ever be reading this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods, she better never be reading this. Chances are, that would mean I've passed and she was nearby enough to take the journal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back to the point, I started by examining the victims. Didn't go so well. The village medic, an old herbalist who smelled strongly of juniper and smoke, insisted that a "foul creature like yourself" should not be allowed near dying folk. Claimed I would hasten their death. The elder who hired me, name of Daurrin, tried to convince her I was there to save them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things escalated to shouting. I snuck in past them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first victim I reached was a young girl, maybe eight summers on her. She was pale. Barely breathing. The sores and scabs dotting her skin, and the pus leaking from them, matched the descriptions I had been given. She was asleep, seemingly untroubled by dreams. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moved on to the next victim. This one was a man, maybe in his thirties. Hard to tell, once I discovered his pointed ears and realised he was an elf. His skin was rough, unusual for that race. Judging by the shadow of a beard on him and the rugged face, he must have been a partial elf. Half, maybe, possibly a quarter. The girl had been entirely human.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I doubt either of the victims' races mattered to the pesta beyond if the elf was impervious to the pox. He wasn't. Still, good thing to note. I saw a few other nonhumans in the town while walking around yesterday. The villagers are distrustful of me, but also want me to solve their problem. Least they're not persecuting the elves and the dwarf, I suppose. Small comfort, but even that is more than I've grown to expect from the North.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back to the pesta's victims. There were more than just those two. By the time I was on the fourth, I was able to see how identical all the symptoms were: all seemingly random victims; all covered in weeping sores; with runny eyes that were crusting shut. Specks of blood and pus oozed from their pores, staining the rough cotton fabric of cots they lay on. The "hospital" was a drafty wooden hall with an attic, probably the town hall. Now, it held not gatherings, but the dead and dying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naturally, that was when the pesta struck. Can't stand dramatic pauses, so I refuse to even write one. Staying on this line, in this paragraph. The wind howled and I heard the scuttering of rat claws on wood. Sure enough, out the window, I glimpsed a maiden with short brown hair billowing around her shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was skin and bone, rotting and decaying with maggots crawling over what was left of her flesh. Her eye sockets were hollow, chipped holes, her bottom jaw missing. She wore a tattered black veil over her face, the fabric flowing down her arms as well. The dress she wore was a faded, dirty shade of grey, torn and ripped in a way that nearly rendered it unrecogniseble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She burst into the town hall. The doors had been opened in order to cart in the bodies of her newest victims.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She saw me. Even now, several hours later while I'm scratching this into a journal and trying to think, the memory of her sunken cheekbones and sad, empty eye sockets swims before my eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn't scream or wail. She just... looked at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swarms of humming insects had followed her inside, or maybe she had summoned them. I knew, and know, precious little about her. Few witchers ever come across a pesta. Even fewer live to tell the tale. All most of us know is that they are a subtype of specter, and can be fought as such. But pestae are rare enough that even Vesemir can only name two confirmed sightings of one. Most of the time, if there's word of a pesta, it's another sort of wraith.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This pesta flew at me, silver sword doing little as she shed her corporeal form for a moment. The men who had been carting in the bodies screamed. The village elder and the herbalist had since left. Can't say I was sad to see them go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The swarms of insects flew into my eyes, my ears, my nose, blinding me. Felt as if I would suffocate. Couldn't even cough, the swarm was so thick. A Sign dispelled the worst of them, but by then the pesta was making a sound of triumph. Several of her victims had woke and their cries of pain reached my ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I had my silver sword on me, but the pesta paid me little mind aside from sending the insects after me again. By the time I had dispelled them, she had sucked the life from three of her victims, delighting gleefully in their demise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she flew after me for good. The two men who had carted in a body collapsed; I saw them fall and heard their screams. I dodged to the side, causing the pesta to fly out of the hall all together. Since she was like to return if I didn't leave the hall, I followed. Took a potion while I was at it. Thunderbolt. Had that and a vial of swallow on my belt. No specter oil. Vesemir would be disappointed, but despite my earlier findings, I had not anticipated to come face to face with the pesta, if she did indeed exist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I paid the price for it, though I got off light. Escaped with my life once she realised I wasn't worth her time. I have witcher immunity to thank for that. She couldn't infect me, nor was I sick. Also had a silver sword and the knowledge of how to use it. She buggered off rather quickly after that, leaving me a fresh wound across my left forearm and rat bites up my shins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She'll be back tomorrow. I know it. The villagers know it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Can't afford to make that mistake tomorrow. Done writing now. Took some Swallow earlier, I'll make the oil next. Refresh my stock of potions. Gonna need them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>October 26, morning </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Woke to Roach nearly trampling me. Lovely way to start the morning. Something in the woods had spooked her. Got injured yesterday, so I didn't check them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gashes and the rat bites have healed. The latter are gone entirely and the former will scar, but ultimately fade. Really hate wraiths. They're damn difficult to fight, even with Yrden.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>October 26, evening</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Examined the woods. Didn't encounter any leshens, spriggans, or even ghouls. Almost certain that the plague maiden is the cause of the sickness there. The trees bore similar pustules and oozed sap. Could have sworn some of them bled, but trees don't have blood. The few bits of wildlife I found all bore similar illness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Came across an injured wolf lying beneath a tree, in agony. One of its flanks was torn open, the disease growing in it. Thing was starving, had clearly been there for a couple of days. Put it out of its misery. Was the kindest thing to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Least I know now that I've only got the pesta to worry about. Once she's gone, necrophages will swoop in. They'll eat any corpse, pox-ridden or not. But while I fight her nothing will be coming up behind me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I'll be preparing potions tonight. And bombs. Can't go through with this fight without being prepared. I'll need a full night of sleep tomorrow, so I'll work tonight and tomorrow morning, then scout out a place to fight her. Would rather not do it in the streets, if I can avoid it. Too constrained, and too likely to lead to unintended casualties.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not just in the fight itself. Should I die, she may turn on the villagers and wreck worse havoc.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I have to face the fact that these next two days could be my last. Know precious little about pestas. Didn't think they could infect forests, so either my information's wrong or this one is particularly powerful. Going to have to treat her as any other wraith, then on top of that avoid the insect swarms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>October 27, morning </b>
</p><p>
  <span>[Messier handwriting, author is clearly in a rush.]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Screams from the town. Fucking hell, she's striking again. Can't afford to delay until tomorrow, might not be a town left to save by then. None of her victims have survived.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ciri. If you're reading this, then know I love you. Don't have to think well of me, but at least think fondly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am so proud of you, my daughter.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>October 27, evening</b>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <span>   Reading </span>
  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <span> I've been thinking, and  <br/>
</span>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>October 29</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Reading over my last coherent entry, I can only come to the conclusion that this one is going to bring me shame. Ciri, forgive me. But there are times I value my own skin. This was one of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gonna have to relay this, aren't I.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After I awoke to the screams of the village, I took what supplies I had on hand and the ones I'd prepared the night before. Rushed in after coating my blade in what little specter oil I had left. Pesta was waiting for me. Drank Full Moon and went after her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plague maiden fought hard. Felt as if her hoards of insects were trying to devour me from the inside. Ingesting them was unavoidable. Still coughing them up. Lambert's never going to quit making fun of me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She herself was a struggle. Insects and noxious clouds aside, she cost me gravely. Unlike most wraiths, she usually stayed corporeal. The exceptions were when I tried to strike her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I tried, dammit. But she was old and strong, and I was choking and half-blinded. Chopped off her arm in exchange for deep gashes down my chest. Insects went for the blood. While that let me see, the fumes and insects found their way into my bloodstream. The pesta couldn't infect me, but she could damn well weaken me. The toxicity from the potion I drank was doing little to drive her or her insects off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Downed Swallow. Didn't get through even half of the bottle before the pesta struck again. Got my sword arm and the rats took a chunk out of my leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, two days later and sitting with Roach by a campfire as I heal, I can acknowledge I thought that was it. There didn't seem to be any good way for me to win. Overdosing on potions, IF I could consume them without choking on flying insects, might have allowed me to kill her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Can practically hear Vesemir now. "No witcher has ever died in his bed, boy, so don't go thinking you'll be the first." Doesn't mean I wanted to die, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Igni bought me a little time and some space to maneuver. Lunged at the pesta. Struck her ribs, night have cut her in half if she didn't turn immaterial at that moment. I took the other half of Swallow. Shit wasn't kicking in fast enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I'd twisted an ankle at some point, not sure when. Possibly when I was blinded by the bugs. Doesn't really matter. It cost me against the plague maiden. Bit of pain and a weakened joint where I hadn't been expecting it. Villagers were beginning to drop like flies. I ran. I wouldn't be getting paid anyways, and unless the townspeople escaped too, they'd be dying. Even if I'd managed to rid them of the pesta, the ecosystem couldn't have [sloppy] recovere</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>October 30</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn pesta caught up with me. Finished her off. Damn near died again, but the fight went better this time. Did some healing in the woods nearby to the town. Hadn't gotten far before I reached Roach again and collapsed. Woke up, took White Honey then Swallow, and sat in agony for a day and a half. Managed to bathe and eat afterwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fucking hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I'm going to Kaer Morhen. If I'm early, I'm early. It's almost winter and I've tired of the Path for this year.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>November 26</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Supposed to just be a normal contract. Not sure even Vesemir believed me when I recounted it, and he might have only because of the scars and the wounds I still vote when I arrived.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>November 27, morning</b>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri says she's impressed I'm still writing and that she believes me about the plague maiden. Asked about the nightmares. I said they’d improved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>November 27, evening</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir asked me to update the bestiary. Typical old wolf.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>December 21</b>
</p><p>
  <span>For the last time, there is a child present. We're not playing strip Gwent if Ciri is still awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri says she's nineteen and has seen worse things than "hairy old men who don't bathe often enough." Can't imagine what.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>March 23</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Spring hit. Snows started melting a week ago. Hard to believe I've had this journal over a year now. Thing's getting full. Only got a couple of pages left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Figured I would return to the village with the pesta before winter hits again. Best to make sure the pox didn't spread.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>May 15</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. Necrophages. The woods are barren of all life, aside from the bugs and an alarming array of mushrooms.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The snows must have kept the corpse-eaters away. I was right when I thought the ecosystem and village wouldn't be able to recover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Didn't find any survivors. Either they escaped, or the necrophages got them when the plague didn't.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>May 17</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The place the celadine was has regrown. Feels like a message. Dandelion would say something poetic here, but I'm not Dandelion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>June 2</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Final page of the journal. Feels almost unreal. Thank you, Ciri.</span>
</p>
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